One Good Turn
by DevinBourdain
Summary: A former crewmember disappears under mysterious circumstances. Is it part of something more sinister or did the crew of Seaview luck out at not experiencing the traitor's betrayal first hand? Part 1 of the Retaliation Series which follows the Retribution Series.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea characters are not mine, just borrowed for this story.

Reviews are always welcome.

**One Good Turn**

The constant thudding drove Nelson from his bed. The persistence of the knocking was only as strong as his anger at being disturbed at such a late hour. The world had better have the decency to be ending, he thought as he stumbled down the stairs fumbling with his housecoat. The last voyage had been particularly exhausting, filled with many sleepless nights, the only thing pushing the man forward had been the peaceful sleep promised upon his return to NIMR which was now being disrupted.

"I'm coming!" bellowed Harry as he reached the last step. There was no way the dead could even sleep through the racket of the unending pounding.

With a huff he twisted the door handle, secretly wishing it was the neck of whoever was on the other side. The door swung open releasing the light of the doorway into the thick night and Nelson's gruff greeting caught in his throat. Of all the people he expected to see gracing his darkened door way it certainly wasn't his current guest.

"I know you," he stuttered, finally able to find his voice again, if only to state the obvious.

"Yeah, I remember you to," spat the drenched individual hovering under what little shelter the doorframe offered.

Nelson motioned for the young man to enter, as his mind desperately tried to come up with some reason for the late calling. A first name wasn't forthcoming but the last name was unforgettable; even without the memorable quasi meeting, the family resemblance was hard to ignore. "Davenport's _brother_ isn't it?"

The teen rolled his eyes, his brashness still firmly intact. "Brayden," emphasized the boy shaking the water out of his hair.

"Of course," offered the Admiral, keeping his irritation in check only for the sake of getting information out of the kid, who seemed likely to withhold it should things turn into a battle with authority. "What do I owe the ... _pleasure_ of your company at three am?"

The younger Davenport looked around the opulent house in awe, a far cry from the more modest lodging his brother occupied. "Nice digs. You got a towel or something? I'm freezing my balls off. It ain't easy breaking in here you know," he said with an expectant look.

"I believe that's the point of having security guard a facility like this," countered Nelson, pulling a towel from the guest bathroom and handing it to the sopping wet mess standing in his living room. "Now would you like a hot drink or a robe perhaps," he snarked, "because I was hoping we could address the reason for your arrival _before_ I call security."

Brayden raised his hands in a pacifying gesture before a twisted smile curled the corner of his lips and he settled his wet body on the expensive looking couch. A serious look gripped his face as he admitted, "My brother's missing."

"On a mission," inquired Nelson sitting beside the boy. His personal feelings for his late night intruder aside, it was always hard to see what families went through when their loved ones were missing or dead in this line of work. He even liked Commander Lyndon Davenport as an officer; the man had performed well as a member of his crew and helped bring about the downfall of Alexi.

The teen shook his head. "No, he was home. They weren't scheduled to leave for another two weeks. We came home from school and someone had been in the house, the place was tossed, you know? Lyndon was just gone and no one's heard from him. The police don't know anything and the Navy came up with nothing, only they're throwing out the idea that he's a traitor." The abject misery on the kid was almost heartbreaking.

That didn't sound like the officer he knew. The man maybe slightly unconventional but he seemed loyal. The problem was, the Admiral really didn't have enough experience with the man to say one way or another, not with the same certainty he could Lee or Chip. "So why come to me?"

"You seemed like someone who would be able to help. Lyndon wouldn't just leave and he wouldn't sell anyone out. Even if he did, you think he'd leave his kids? No, something happened and I need to know what or if he's still alive. He helped you out, now I'm hoping you can do the same." Brayden bit his lip, unable to look the other man in the eye for fear that his plea would be rejected. His first hope for help was out in the middle of the Pacific at the moment and even if Commander Ambrose wasn't, his hands would probably be tied. Nelson and his people weren't strictly Navy, maybe they could find answers where others could not dare to go.

"How long has he been missing?"

"Three weeks."

Nelson's lips pressed in a hard line. "And there's been no ransom?" The teen shook his head. That long without contact from the kidnappers meant they were either going to be looking for a body or the theory of traitor might be accurate. The Admiral's finger tapped against his thigh as he weighed out just what he could do to help if he agreed. It certainly wouldn't hurt to do a little digging and at least see the case file; worst case scenario the man was a traitor and they could all count their blessings that his betrayal didn't come while he was serving aboard Seaview. "I look into it, but I can't promise anything."

Brayden's head shot up, hope welling in his big brown eyes. "On one condition," amended the Admiral. The teen's shoulders deflated slightly. "You write me a report on how you managed to get past security and all the way to my front door in the middle of the night. Clearly security has some tightening up to do."

The disgruntled mask of a put out teenager slipped into place, though Nelson could still see the relief the boy felt around the edges. "I might be able to do that," he replied, all attitude and indifference once again.

"Alright then. I'll call a car to take you back home." Nelson picked up the phone on the end table and dialled the night office at the Institute. Within a few moments a driver was on his way up to the Admiral's residence with order to take Davenport straight home.

Handing back the now wet towel, Brayden paused at the door. "Thanks, you know, for at least tying." Turning back out into the night Nelson reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Where are you staying if your brother's missing?" The saddened look returned at the mention of Lyndon's absence, tugging at the Admiral's heartstrings. "When I find something, I need to know where to find you."

"Holden Ambrose is our legal guardian should anything ever happen to Lyndon."

The name rang a bell. Another up and coming officer destined to do great things but if memory served, the commanding officer was otherwise engaged in a training exercise in the Pacific. "Isn't Commander Ambrose currently out at sea?"

"Yeah, but they're old family friends the Ambroses. His wife Alice is looking after us. They have two boys of their own so it's not a complete foreign concept to them to have a bunch of kids underfoot."

Nelson nodded, filing the name away for future reference. "I'll be in touch in then," he promised as the teen ran down the driveway to the waiting car. He just hoped he wouldn't have bad news when he did contact him.

The Admiral sighed as he passed by his bedroom on his way to his study. There would be no sleep tonight. Seaview was scheduled to leave in four days to carry out important experiments that were ten months in the making. Hopefully that would be enough time to get the appropriate wheels greased and Davenport located or at least some information that would shed some light into his disappearance. Tonight would be filled with various phone calls to agencies and old friends. Brayden had been right, Lyndon was a family man and wouldn't just abandon his children. The whole situation screamed something big was going on but what had the former Seaview member gotten himself into?


	2. Chapter 2

The casual banter in the room died as Nelson walked into the boardroom and took his seat at the head of the table, his assistant following in his wake. The gathered compliment of senior staff looked expectantly at their leader waiting for the justification of the unplanned meeting. If wasn't unusual to have impromptu meetings as pressing information and missions occurred and the officers around the table had been preparing themselves for action since the urgent message was sent out at six am that morning.

"Thank you for all arriving so quickly," addressed the Admiral.

"What's happened?" asked Lee, leaning forward to catch the hastily clipped together brief Ryan slide across the table to everyone.

Morton and O'Brien began flipping through their copies, confusion present on their faces. Nelson cleared his throat. "Three weeks ago Commander Davenport disappeared. The circumstances are rather mysterious, with local police turning up nothing and the Navy ready to label him a traitor based on evidence that seems to be unattainable at the moment."

Crane snorted; his dislike of the former and temporary Seaview exec had never been a secret. "I can't say I'm surprised, he seemed rather shady from the start. What does this have to do with us? We're not a missing persons agency and he isn't a part of this crew anymore."

Nelson levelled the table a glare that said he valued their opinions but this matter wasn't open for debate. "I promised a young man that I would look into it. Davenport assisted us when we needed it and if it turns out the accusations are true, then we need to know what information he sold and if any of it pertains to Seaview and our operations at NIMR."

"Are we scrubbing the research mission?" questioned Chip.

"No, we will proceed with that as scheduled in three days. Hopefully we will have some information before we leave. I need each of you to reach out to anyone that might know something, friends that might have served with him or attended class with him at the academy," instructed the Admiral. "O'Brien, I'd like you to take Sharkey and look over Lyndon's residence and speak with his neighbours, see if we can't get anything the police missed."

The Lieutenant nodded, accepting a manila envelope from Ryan containing directions and house keys.

"Morton, I'd like you to go over all of his movements while he was here. Track his computer access and see if you can't get a hold of any emails or other transmission he might have sent. It probably won't produce anything relevant but let's cover our bases," continued Nelson. "Lee, see if you can't get anything more out of ONI. That will be all gentlemen, we'll meet here after lunch for a progress report with the exception of Mr O'Brien who will be in San Francisco." Harry grabbed his papers off the table and left the conference room as quickly as he had appeared.

"What's up with him," asked Chip, nodding his head at the open door.

"I don't know," offered Crane with a shrug.

"You don't think Commander Davenport is really a traitor, do you sir?" questioned Tyler.

The Captain let out a long sigh. "I don't think so, but I wouldn't put it past him.

The three men packed up their papers and headed to their assigned destinations. Determination hung in the air, not so much to prove a man's innocence but fuelled by a desire to find answers. Naturally, they wanted to learn that someone they had worked alongside, someone who had bled for them, was the virtue of all the ideals that they held dear but there was still the shadow of outsider cast on the man in question.

* * *

The shrill chirp of the phone disbanded the silence of Lee's office and he hesitantly reached over to grab it. The call wasn't unexpected, he'd asked Nix to get back to him as soon as possible but Crane wasn't sure he wanted to hear any solid answers yet. They had spent two days digging and most if it felt as though they were chasing their tails.

It was easy to assume the worst yet deep down still hold the belief that Davenport was a decent person but to find out that he was traitor made everyone question their faith in humanity. How could they all be so blind not to notice, to fall for the man's performance; proving the accusations would unfairly cast suspicion on everyone and every relationship would be called into question. If one person could fool you, who's to say others weren't currently doing the same.

"Crane," answered the Captain.

"To what do I owe the pleasure this time Lee," enthused Jason on the other end.

"I was hoping you could help me out with something."

"I'll do what I can," offered Lee's friend.

"I was hoping you could shed some light on the accusations currently against Commander Lyndon Davenport," proceeded Lee in a strictly business tone.

"Davenport, there's a name I never thought you'd be asking about." All traces delight vanished from Jason's voice as the moan of leather betrayed his sudden stiffness in his office chair.

Lee had made his lack of love no secret during the whole Alexi debacle, even if most of it was based on a fear of replacing Chip. "I just wanted to know if the accusations are true."

A heavy sigh carried over the phone. "Yeah, they're true." It was hard not to take the actions of someone who was supposed to defend their country personally when they betrayed that oath, and it was keenly felt by all that heard about it. "He was selling information to the People's Republic. They managed to catch the buyer but Davenport slipped past the security team sent to take down the meeting and vanished. That was two days before his alleged disappearance."

Crane could feel the deep pit in his stomach open up. The news would be devastating for the crew who had come to respect the man during his short period of service aboard the sub. Worse, he had been hoping to give Nelson some good news; the Admiral had chosen the young man to join the crew, and after everything that had happened over the last year, the sting of betrayal would be hard for him to take. "Can you send me the surveillance?"

"I can send you the photos, most of it is logged into evidence and part of an active file that's not mine so I can't get that for you right away."

"That should be enough."

"I'll send them to you now. The rapid clicking of keys picked up on the other end of the line.

"Thanks, I owe you one," replied Lee reaching over to his computer to open his email. Just after the window popped up, the new message symbol flashed and Lee wasted no time in printing the file. The gentle hum of the printer sung in the background.

"You owe me like twelve," chuckled Jason before hanging up. They may not interact as much as they did with other friends but the other could always count on them to help in any way possible.

Crane pulled the pictures off the printer tray, the evidence heavy in his hand as he stared at the depiction of Davenport meeting the gentleman in a cliché trench coat, handing over a battered beige envelope and accepting a small duffle bag in return. Lee had never wanted to be proven wrong about someone so much in his life, but the proof was staring him in the face. Now he just had to break the news to everyone else.

* * *

"What the hell happened to you?" asked Chip in shock as O'Brien hobbled into boardroom on a set of crutches.

Fumbling slightly as he slipped into his set, Tyler gave a sheepish shrug to the two commanding officers present. "A moment of supreme klutziness. I was talking to Commander Davenport's neighbour, a sweet elderly lady, whose front stairs were in a sort of disrepair," he started.

"And let me guess, a stair broke when you were on it?" asked the Captain.

"No, I managed to avoid the deteriorating step, but her cat ran out of the house and I tripped over it. Didn't do such a good job of breaking my fall. Jamie says my ankle should be good as new in a few days but he refuses to sign off on me for our next voyage," Tyler corrected, looking miserable, apologetic and dejected in one long sigh.

Morton chewed on his lower lip as he ran through the crew manifest and the changes he would have to make to the rotations in the Lieutenant's absence. "Well, Angie and Ryan are tasked with doing a complete inventory and office clean up this weekend, think you can manage giving them a hand with that?"

O'Brien eagerly shook his head. "Yes sir, should be able to give them a hand."

"Then you're in charge here," injected Nelson as he shut the door behind him and took his seat. He addressed the room, "What have you managed to dig up gentlemen?"

Crane slid the file of pictures across the table, coming to a stop within the Admiral's reach. Silently the older man flipped through them, his glowering growing with each photo. "And this came from?" snapped Nelson.

"Jason sent them over. There's more but that's all he was able to send," informed the Captain. He watched his long time friend carefully. Embracement at having been played by the young man in question warred with disappointment in his tired eyes making Lee wish he had better news.

Tapping his fist on the table, Nelson said, "Guess that means our work here is done. We can continue our preparations to leave tomorrow as scheduled. Mr Morton, please see that everything is arranged to cover for Mr O'Brien."

"Yes sir," replied Chip before the Admiral left the room, a foul mood settling in for the duration of the day.

"So that's it then?" spoke up Tyler before Crane and Morton were able to get to the door.

"Looks like," offered Chip. "There seems to be evidence to support the claim, which means charges are laid against him. If they can track him down, he'll get a fair trial but disappearing just makes him look guilty."

"It's not like we can scour the globe looking for one man. If he sold secrets to the People's Republic, I'm sure they'll hide him," added Lee.

"I guess but what would make someone betray everything they stood for?" posed Tyler, the need for answers within senseless actions tainting his voice. The question hung in the air as each man contemplated just what their price would be. In chilling silence they all went back to work.


	3. Chapter 3

Crane dropped the latest report on top of his outgoing pile of papers. A yawn crept past his lips as the weight of another long day was coming down upon him. The latest research expedition wasn't overly difficult but required precision and timing that had become quite wearing. Things were a little tense, the Admiral's need for perfection mixed with his frustration over having judged Davenport incorrectly had the man snapping at every turn. Trying to be the buffer between Nelson and the crew had worn the Captain thin and he was looking forward to crawling into his bunk after he finished reading his last report.

The words had begun to swim but Lee managed to get through the mind numbing, but important maintenance report. It was going to be the last time he lost to Chip in poker when paperwork was the item being wagered. Closing the folder, Crane moved it to his completed pile when he caught sight of the file Jason had sent him on Davenport. Giving into to curiosity, Lee flipped through the pictures one more time.

They hadn't changed since the last time he looked at them, just before he had to deliver the news to a friend that not only hated being wrong but hated being fooled by people he thought he could trust. While the Admiral would never admit it, the Captain could tell the older man was both embarrassed and hurt by this turn of events. The evidence was clear and damning and despite his personal feeling towards the man, Crane had hoped for better news. It might have been the late hour or wishful thinking but something seemed off with the scene depicted before him. The authenticity of the photos had been checked and rechecked within NIMR as well as with Jason; the reports regarding the incident had been read, reread, verified and corresponded with the visual evidence. Still there was something nibbling at the back of his mind.

Lee glanced at the clock on the wall; he really should go to bed now. Knowing that sleep wouldn't come until he could dispel his uneasy feeling, Crane decided to go and grab a coffee before settling in for what was going to be another long night.

* * *

The elevator dinged, opening its doors for the main floor lobby of NIMR where O'Brien was waiting somewhat patiently. Even with his foot in a cast, he was capable of doing most things, driving however was not one of them. A mix up with the cab company had not been the best start to his day.

"There's my new favourite assistant," bubbled Ryan with a sarcastic edge, once the doors were open enough to get a good view of the person waiting in the lobby.

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Tyler, manoeuvring himself into the elevator. His grumpiness didn't last long as Ryan handed him a large cup of coffee from some magical place the assistant had found and refused to divulge, claiming if everyone knew where the coffee shop was, it would ruin one of her bargaining chips.

They reached the main administration floor only to be greeted by Angie at the elevator door, stack of files in hand. "There you two are," she said as she passed off her burden to Ryan who took the pile with an overly fake smile. "Are you able to push a cart with your foot like that?" Angie added, turning to O'Brien.

"Yes ma'am," he chirped, leaning one of his crutches against the wall. Getting around with one wasn't going to be hard and though this wasn't where he wanted to be, given the options, it was nice to be useful in some capacity. "Just might not be the fastest at the moment."

"Good. Ryan can show you to the shredding room and from there you can take the cart and start destroying documents that we load onto it," Angie informed, ticking off one more duty form her lengthy list of housekeeping office tasks.

"This way sir," chimed in Ryan, gesturing towards one of the hallways as Angie headed back into one of the storage rooms.

"What, are we destroying the evidence?" chucked Tyler as he followed his companion through the maze that constituted the administration floor.

"Do you know how much paper it takes to keep you boys in business?" Ryan pulled out an impressive ring of keys, flipping through them systematically until she found the one she was looking for, a soft smile crinkling around her eyes. Without waiting or expecting an answer, she continued, "A whole forest is kept within these hallow halls. We have to hold onto every scrap of paper, but thankfully for space sake, some of it only needs to be kept for so many years before being destroyed, so I present to you..." pausing for dramatic flair, Nelson's assistant reached over and flipped the light switch on. The bright lights flickered a few times before illuminating stack after stack of banker's boxes crammed full of manila folders. "...shredding day!"

"All of this?" asked the Lieutenant, swallowing hard.

Ryan squinted as she scanned the assorted boxes present. "This looks like it's just the boxes from the first storage room. Pretty sure we're cleaning out four of them this time." Her voice was nonchalant as she casually leaned against the door frame unfazed by the task at hand.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he sighed, "This is going to take us forever."

"All weekend baby," she corrected with an evil smile. Clapping him on the shoulder, she turned to leave Tyler to the task at hand. "Have fun."

Tyler took another look around at the mountain he had been charged with toppling before turning on the series of shredders and taking a seat near the middle of the row. "I'd rather be dealing with the crazy scientists," he mumbled before opening the first folder and feeding the papers through the machine.

* * *

"What do you want Kowlaski?" huffed the Captain.

The crewman fidgeted again before sitting across the table in the wardroom and looking at Lee sheepishly. "Mr Morton sent me to check and make sure you grabbed something to eat," he confessed, "he seemed a little worried and he's not the only one that thinks you looked a little stressed out, especially considering this is a pretty routine voyage."

Crane rubbed some of the tension in his forehead, dropping his file open on the table. Picking up his cup of coffee he tilted it towards Kowalski, smiling, "You can tell the XO I had a good meal and I'm even going to turn in early tonight." The Captain had been scrutinizing every inch of the photos Jason had sent him, looking for what, he couldn't say but it had cost him a few hours of sleep.

Kowalski smile before looking down at the slightly skewed stack of photos. "Those from the case against Commander Davenport?" His tone was solemn. The crew didn't want to ever replace the senior staff at NIMR but as far as employing a temporary officer, they respected the man. He had help save both the Captain and first officer and that earned him quite a few points with the crew.

"Yes" replied Lee shuffling them back into a neat pile.

"When'd he get the tattoo?"

Lee's brow creased. "What?"

"The tattoo," repeated the crewman tilting his head towards the top picture before reaching over and placing his finger over top of it.

Crane stared at the photo taken from behind Davenport as he handed over the case to his contact. The photo was close enough to make out a design on the back of the officer's neck. It was obscured by the collar of his shirt but judging by what was visible, it looked to be an impressive size. Surely something like that would have caught his attention during his interactions with Lyndon but for the life of him, Lee couldn't convince himself one way or the other. Something deep down however told him that it hadn't been there before but it did look familiar. "I don't believe he does," muttered Crane as he scooped up the files leaving in a hurry.


	4. Chapter 4

"So, run it by me one more time," snapped Chip as he buckled his last strap on his seatbelt, "why does it take to two of us to go get the Admiral's supplies?

Lee let out a little half smirk as he continued his prelaunch sequence of the flying sub. "You know Nelson prefers two people to go ashore so one can keep the other honest." One too many barroom bawls and over extravagant room service bills had necessitated the policy in addition to the security concerns.

"Yes, but why the two of us? Since when do we get stuck running errands when we have a sub to run?" The irritation was plainly written on the exec's face that he was less than impressed with getting pulled away from the glory Morton found in check lists, proper paper work and schedules. "And since when do you volunteer to be a delivery boy?"

The sleek sub launched with its usual grace as it propelled towards the surface and open air space. No matter how many times Lee took the flying sub out he never got tired of breaching the water and lifting up towards the heavens; Chip however seemed too suspicious to enjoy the ambiance the impromptu trip promised.

"I've never known you to turn down a good meal and a night out exploring all a new city has to offer before," replied the Captain in the most soothing yet non patronizing tone he could find.

Morton snorted before glaring back at his friend. "There's less secrecy involved in shore leave."

"Secrecy?"

"Yeah. Whatever it is you're not telling about what we're really doing here," he elaborated, waving his hand around for emphasis.

Crane reached over to the control consol making a small course correction before turning his full attention to his companion. "Relax Chip. We're going ashore to pick up some last minute supplies the Admiral needs to take his experiments to the next stage." With a causal shrug he added, "Nothing more, nothing less."

"Right," retorted the exec, his tone no more believing than it had been before, "the supplies it takes two of his senior most staff members to pick up."

"Well, when you say it like _that._"

Shifting in his seat slightly, Morton shot Crane a hard look that was in stark contrast to the gentle hum of the small sub. "Is this an ONI thing?" Chip demanded, the accusation clear in his voice. "Cause I swear to god Lee, if this is an ONI thing and the Admiral sent me along to pick up your pieces and see that you get patched back together..."

Lee raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. "Calm down Chip."

"Well?" impatiently interrupted the tall blond.

"I can honestly say ONI knows nothing about this," assured the Captain.

"Why doesn't that make me feel any better?"

Lee rolled his eyes. "Coincidently..."

"There's no such thing as coincidence when you're involved," huffed Morton, rubbing at the headache he felt beginning to form just above his left eye.

The sub shifted slightly to the side as Crane guided it through final approach to the harbour. The touchdown was gentle as would be expected by the Captain's skilful hands and with the ease of experience, the sleek yellow sub settled against the dock. "Did Davenport have a tattoo on his neck by any chance?"

The Commander scrunched his face up at the sheer oddness of the Captain's query. Of all the possible topics his friend could have endeavoured to go down, the personal pension for one former officer's body art was nowhere in the realm of consideration, especially if that former crewman was the one that seemed to get under Lee's skin without even trying.

"Not that I recall, nor was I looking but I imagine something like that would have stood out if it was big enough to be noticeable in the first place. Why, what does it matter?"

Crane shook his head as he undid his restraints. "It doesn't. It was just suggested that he did and I'd like to think I was more observant than to not notice it." Lee held his breath as he held Chip's soul searching gaze. For whatever reason the exec decided not to push the issue even if he didn't look like he quite bought the answer, instead getting up to grab his bag and give the Captain a moment to relax.

Jumping up to follow suit, Lee grabbed his bag, flashing an enthusiastic smile. "Once we get these crates loaded and secure we can see to getting that meal," chirped Crane, following the exec up the ladder to the dock.

* * *

O'Brian sighed to himself. He was going to have to redefine torture as he understood it after this. Reaching towards the cart next to him, he grabbed another stack of paper and began feeding it through the shredder. Inaction was frustrating enough, hobbling around on a cast was really cramping his style but the monotony of this medial task was nothing short of agony, the likes of which he wouldn't wish upon his worst enemy. Surely they had had him locked away in this room for so long that they had forgotten him.

"How's it going?"

The innocent question startled Tyler out of his zombie like haze. He took a moment to savour the sweet sound that had been something other than the continuous hum of the shedders. "Please tell me it's Tuesday." He wasn't too proud to pretend that it didn't sound a little like begging.

"Close," smirked Ryan, pushing in another cart of carefully constructed paper mountains. Tyler's shoulders drooped a little as he watched the painstaking dent he had made in the piles disappear amongst a flurry of new pages setting like fresh snow. "It's Saturday, day two of your sentence. But never let it be said we don't feed the prisoner," she added, plucking a neatly wrapped sandwich from the cart and tossing it into the Lieutenant's eagerly awaiting outstretched hand.

"What's Angie up to?" asked O'Brien around a mouthful of bread.

"She's currently prepping new crewman information forms, so that means if you get through this mess, you can head home early today." Ryan smiled at the relief that washed over her friend's face. "I'm going to try and not be too insulted you hate my job so much."

Tyler hastily swallowed his bite of food. "It's not that," he protested, trying to smooth any feathers before they became ruffled. One of his father's best lessons had been to never insult someone who was willing to bring you food and other necessities when you were swamped.

"Oh but it is." Ryan added a friendly shoulder bump as she perched beside Tyler on the corner desk. "In all fairness, this isn't my entire job and I hate this part just as much as you do."

"Well at least we're all equally miserable then," chuckled the young man.

Ryan's next words died on her lips as the room was suddenly plunged into darkness. After a few moments everything was bathed in a soft golden light as the emergency lights began to flicker on.

"Well that's weird," she offered.

"Maintenance running a systems check or research and development installing a new system maybe?" posed O'Brien.

"We're the only ones here this weekend besides whoever is manning the security gate."

O'Brien tried to not let the excitement of fiddling in the circuitry room show but his quasi leap to his feet betrayed his dislike of his current task. Offering a hand out to Ryan, he said, "Shall we go see if we can get the lights turned back on?"


End file.
